


Separation of Powers

by sainnis



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainnis/pseuds/sainnis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different take on the ending of “The Gates of Avalon,” in which Merlin gives more than he intends, and Arthur starts a few fires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Separation of Powers

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the prompt “switching places” for merlin_ficathon on LJ.
> 
> If you care to know, I used online Welsh Translator for the magic spells, and they supposedly translate to: _I give you my power. My power will save your life._ And later, _I return your power to you with gratitude._ I don’t speak any Welsh, so apologies if you do and the translation is faulty!

Gasping for breath, Merlin tightened his hold on Arthur, dragging his limp form through the cattails towards the water’s edge. The mud beneath his boots made his footing unsteady, and he staggered a bit under the prince’s weight. The chainmail and plate armor didn’t help matters, and he cursed Sophia anew for choosing such appropriate attire for Arthur’s drowning. 

He finally pulled Arthur free from the water, and he fell to his knees beside him on the rocky shore, water dripping from his hair. His head was pounding, and he touched the back of his head, feeling the goose egg from Aulfric’s attack. 

“Arthur. Wake up.” He gently shook the prince’s shoulder. “Arthur.” 

Moments passed, and he heard a kestrel cry in the forest nearby. He watched, waiting for any sign of movement. He’s not breathing. He’s not-- “Arthur. Come on.” His fingers sought for a pulse beneath the cold skin at Arthur’s throat, and when he couldn’t find one, he pressed his ear against the chainmail covering Arthur’s chest, straining to hear. 

His heart’s stopped. She killed him. Oh gods—

“No.” Merlin sat up, pressing both hands against Arthur’s chest. “No. She was worth nothing. She cannot be the end of you.” Arthur’s face had grown pale, his lips a dusky shade of purple. Merlin pressed harder as panic took hold, words tumbling out of his mouth. “Princes don’t drown, you worthless prat! Breathe!“ 

He stopped for a moment, testing his frail hopes to see if there had been any change. “This is not how you die. Silly girls waving around enchantments do not take down Arthur Pendragon.” Merlin felt suddenly dizzy, but he didn’t stop speaking. “You will survive this. You will start breathing and your heart will start beating and you’ll wake up and be so grateful to your dutiful manservant that you’ll give him a holiday. A feast in his honor. Personal quarters. A year’s wages. Convince Uther to lift the ban on—“

His voice stopped abruptly, and he felt his lungs burn. He heard words come from his own mouth, words that he’d never heard before. They seared his tongue as they passed through his lips, their very sound making him shudder. “Anrhega 'ch 'm allu. ‘M allu ewyllysia achub 'ch buchedd.”

His vision flashed a brilliant gold, and then all shrank to gray. He fell back, collapsing gracelessly beside the prince, and the gray became darkness.

*

Arthur blinked, staring up into an overcast sky. The ground beneath him was wet and cold, much like his person, and the wind coming off the water raised gooseflesh on his arms. Water. Lake. Sophia. He pushed himself up, muscles tensing, glancing about for any sign of the enchantress. Fumbling for his sword, he found no weapon on his belt, but as he looked down, he saw Merlin.

He was utterly soaked, his hair plastered to his forehead, and skin pale enough to make Morgana seem ruddy by comparison. Arthur knelt beside him, giving him a shake. “Merlin. Get up.”

After a moment, Merlin’s eyes slid open, and he mumbled something Arthur couldn’t understand.

“What happened? Where’s Sophia?”

Merlin’s pupils seemed unfocused, but his gaze fixed on Arthur’s face. “You’re all right.”

“I’m fine. Forget about me. It’s Sophia. She’s an enchantress—“

“She’s dead.”

“But her father—“

“He’s dead too.”

Arthur looked at Merlin carefully. “How?”

“I came after you. Saw her trying to drown you.” Merlin lifted his head slightly, and then dropped it again, wincing. “They were distracted with the spells. Never saw me coming.”

Arthur took a breath. “I could hear you trying to speak to me through her spell. I knew you were trying to help, but I couldn’t say a word. I was trapped inside my own body.” He pushed aside thoughts of slipping beneath the water, of her cruel expression as she held him under. “The last thing I remember is the water. I thought I’d surely die.”

“I was lucky to reach you in time.” Merlin smiled crookedly.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, “for coming after me.”

Merlin started to speak, but his words were choked off by a fit of coughing. He managed a weak “You’re welcome,” before Arthur waved him off. 

“Save it. Do you think you can walk?”

Merlin sat up with a groan. “I’ll be fine.”

Arthur put out his hand, pulling Merlin to his feet, but his servant’s knees buckled, and he caught him before he fell. “You can barely stand.”

“Give me a minute. Just let me get my bearings.” Merlin held one hand to his head, and the other gripped Arthur’s shoulder.

“For someone who didn’t nearly drown this afternoon, you’re in bad shape.”

“I nearly drowned myself saving you.”

Arthur heard Merlin’s breathing rasp in his chest. “You sound terrible.”

“It’s nothing Gaius won’t be able to mend.” Merlin’s hand shook against Arthur’s shoulder. “Let’s get home. Your father’s furious, no doubt.”

They started walking, and Arthur kept his pace slow. “How will I ever explain this? My father’s going to think I lost my mind.”

“People in love often do. “

*

Merlin’s face was pressed against Arthur’s neck when they reached Gauis, which meant he couldn’t properly see the physician’s expression upon their arrival, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine.

“What happened? Why are you carrying my apprentice?”

“Don’t shout, Gaius,” Arthur said, crossing the room to place Merlin on the bed. “His legs gave out halfway to Camelot and he’s not as light as he looks.”

Arthur explained their final encounter with Sophia, and Merlin half listened, already missing Arthur’s body heat. Gaius usually kept up a roaring blaze in his chambers, making the place unbearably hot come summer, but Merlin couldn’t stop himself from shaking with cold.

“I’ll get more blankets. Get him out of those wet clothes.”

Merlin felt Arthur’s fingers graze his sides as the prince started to pull off his tunic, and he had to stop himself from bursting into a strange kind of laughter. It was like a parody, the prince undressing his servant. Arthur performed the task in the same manner as he did everything in the practice yard: efficiently, without a single wasted movement. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said softly. 

Arthur pulled a blanket over Merlin’s bare flesh, finally meeting his gaze. “I don’t know why you’re apologizing.”

“I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

“You didn’t.” Arthur opened his mouth slightly as if to speak further, but instead he took a step towards the door. “I should—“

“Go see your father. Let him know you’re safe.” Merlin lifted a hand weakly, waving him on. “I’ll be fine. A little rest will do me good.”

Arthur lingered a moment longer than Merlin expected by his bedside. “Just…take care of yourself.” 

He was gone before Merlin could respond, and even if he’d had the time, he hardly knew what he would’ve said. There was something very wrong with him, something that had nothing to do with lake water or walking in wet clothes or casually being thrown against a wall by magic. 

Gaius returned with an armload of blankets and several glass vials of tinctures held between his fingers. “Where’s Prince Arthur?”

“Had to see Uther.”

After draping several more blankets over Merlin, Gauis pulled out Merlin’s wrist, taking it between his thin fingers. “Pulse is weak and unsteady.” He felt Merlin’s forehead. “No fever, though.”

Gaius lifted his eyelids, listened to his breathing, and inspected the bump on the back of his skull. “Does anything hurt?”

His head did ache a bit dully, but that was to be expected. How did one explain that everything simply felt wrong? He knew it with every beat of blood in his temples, with every shaky breath he drew in that he had done something beyond his own knowledge when he cast that spell, and he was utterly afraid of what it meant.

“Merlin. Look at me. Did something else happen out there?”

Gods, why was it so cold in here? “Can I have another blanket?”

Gaius added another to the bed, his lips pursed. “Was it enchantment? Did Sophia—“

“No.” Merlin turned on his side, pulling his limbs in tight in an effort to stop shivering. “I did a spell.”

“What sort of spell?” Gaius’ voice was quiet, as if he were speaking to a small child.

“I don’t know.” Merlin closed his eyes, and he recalled that the spell was tremendously loud. It tasted like fire. The words had evaporated like water left in a boiling kettle too long. “I can’t remember.”

“What were you trying to do?”

“It was Arthur, he’d…” Died. Nearly died. Was death merely the absence of breath, the silence of a stopped heart? “He couldn’t breathe. I had to save him.”

Gaius exhaled, brushing back a thin strand of silver hair from across his forehead. “I have heard of such a thing as magical recoil. I must have some mention of it,” he said, gesturing towards his books. “If someone uses more magic than they themselves are capable of, or if certain powerful spells are used, a recoil can happen, which can cause all manner of physical symptoms. It could explain what’s happened to you.”

“What’s the cure?”

“Usually time. The body has to recover from the strain of using magic, which depends on how much was used. It’s not a good idea to use magic while one is recovering, as it can cause a relapse, or worse.”

“Do you think that’s what’s wrong with me?”

“It’s my best guess.” Gaius offered him a vial of something blue. “Sleep will help. Drink this. Maybe you’ll remember the spell after you get some rest.”

Merlin swallowed the medicine quickly, frowning as it burned down the length of his throat into his chest. Gaius didn’t believe in adding honey or other flavors to his cures; he insisted that only reduced their potency. He pulled the blankets as close as he could, balling a fistful of fabric under his chin. “You’ll be here later?”

Gaius smiled kindly, already pulling out books from his shelves. “I’ll be here.” 

*

Arthur closed the door to his room with his heel, grateful beyond measure to be away from his father. In one hand he held a silver goblet, and in the other, a bottle of wine. Pouring himself a drink, he sat down heavily in the velvet-lined chair at his table. It had taken less time than he expected to explain the situation with Sophia, as he had decided to eliminate the fact she and her father were Sidhe from the story. While Arthur believed Merlin when he said he’d killed the two of them, he knew it was doubtful Uther would swallow such a tale. Instead he’d concocted a new ending where Merlin had nearly drowned after trying to stop Arthur from eloping, making himself the hero and his clumsy manservant the fool. It was a familiar enough plot that Uther simply shook his head, shook his head at Arthur’s ‘impetuous and fickle’ brush with love, and then called for supper.

Sipping his wine, Arthur stared out the window into the darkness. Though the events of the day were somewhat jumbled in his mind, he’d still been able to hear much of what Sophia and Aulfric were saying, up until the point he’d gone under. He’d been an offering, payment through the gates to the Sidhe. On some level, princes knew their lives were worth significantly more than others’ lives, at least to some, but the reduction of his own existence to mere currency seemed wildly unthinkable. 

He drank more wine.

His thoughts spun back to Merlin, and he wondered if Gaius had found the proper medicine to help him, and for a moment he nearly considered leaving his chambers to find out. It was, however, the middle of the night, and it was unlikely the physician or his patient were still awake. If anything was truly wrong, he conceded, Gaius would have sent for him. 

Without warning, a great and terrible sound shook him out of his reverie, startling him enough to knock over his goblet. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, blade at the ready. It was only after the sound began to die down that Arthur realized it was a laugh, albeit a deep and unearthly one.

“Who are you?” he shouted, tightening his grip on his sword.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you, little prince.”

“Show yourself!”

“You’d best give it back before it’s too late.”

“Give what back? Who are you talking about?” Arthur spun about the room, listening for any sign of the voice’s direction, but he heard nothing more. 

“Answer me!”

A thorough search of the chamber was fruitless, and when several well-intentioned guards knocked on his door to inquire why he was shouting, he asked them if they’d heard a voice as well. They shook their heads and simply stared at the empty bottle on the table. Arthur sent them away, blew out his candles, and lay down to sleep.

One too many enchantments for one day, he thought, and perhaps too much wine.

*

Merlin pushed away the goblet at his lips, spilling some sort of herbal tisane on his chest. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Your fever’s getting higher. You need medicine.” Gaius nudged the cup against his mouth, but Merlin turned his head away.

“Just leave me be,” he muttered, closing his eyes. His body had utterly betrayed him in the night, going from freezing to boiling in the space of an hour. The air in the room seemed thick, and though Gaius had opened every available window and claimed the spring breeze was coming through, Merlin still felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

Gaius’ voice developed a certain edge to it, the sort he generally reserved for Uther. “This is not a request.”

He didn’t want more vials of ghastly liquid poured down his throat; his stomach already felt ravaged enough by the other remedies Gauis had tried thus far. “No. No more of that.” He tried to remember what it was Gaius had said yesterday. Had it been yesterday? His mind felt fogged, clouded by heat. “You said I need time. What was the word? Recoil.”

“Time is all very well and good, but the fever could kill you in the meantime.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Gauis put aside his goblet to answer it. He heard Arthur’s voice, heard Gaius whispering quickly, and then heard the door shut. Footsteps approached, and Merlin didn’t bother to pull up a blanket to cover himself, as the loincloth he still wore was more fabric than he cared to feel against his skin. 

Arthur took a sharp breath as he came to stand by Merlin’s bedside, but as he always did, he recovered with practiced grace. “Gaius says you won’t take your medicine.”

Merlin laughed hoarsely, blinking up at the prince. “It’s not working anyway.”

Arthur lowered the goblet to Merlin’s lips, and he could see the smudged shadows of a sleepless night under Arthur’s eyes. “I command you to drink.”

He sighed softly, and then drank every last miserable drop in the cup. “Are you happy now, your Highness?” 

Arthur leaned closer to Merlin’s ear. “Do you think this pleases me, seeing you like this? Knowing that it’s my fault?”

“That’s not what I—“

“If anyone should be lying there, it should be me. I was the one who put this kingdom in danger by falling under her wretched enchantment.”

“Only very few could resist enchantments like hers. You can’t feel guilt for that.”

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. “You didn’t fall for it.”

A half-smile came over Merlin’s lips. “She wasn’t trying to seduce me.”

Arthur scoffed. “She wasn’t trying to seduce me, either. She was using me as a royal sacrifice.”

“As long as I’m around,” Merlin said, stopping briefly to catch his breath, “you don’t need to worry about being sacrificed.”

Arthur reached out, taking the wet cloth from Merlin’s head and dipping it in the bowl on the bedside table. “It’s not your job to protect me. It’s the prince’s responsibility to protect his people. And before you contradict me and say something about the Knights, don’t forget that the Knights take a vow. They train and they spend years honing their skills.” He replaced the cloth, and Merlin exhaled at the blessedly cool relief. 

“So you want me to stop saving your life?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt! I don’t want to see you lying here pale as death with Gaius pouring potions down your throat!” 

As he looked at Arthur, Merlin tried to keep his breathing steady. “The alternative is unthinkable. You, lying at the bottom of the lake. You, poisoned. You, the hero of Camelot, dead before you ever had the chance to become King. It’s not a future I could bear.”

Arthur shook his head, his mouth set. “I’m not interested in a future that costs you your life. It might as well be entrance into Avalon. The price is too high.” 

Merlin nearly replied, but Arthur’s knee bumped the table, and the goblet tumbled off. Arthur moved in an attempt to catch it, but instead, the goblet hung suspended in midair for several terrifying seconds before crashing to the floor.

Merlin’s heart was already beating uncomfortably fast from the fever, but it doubled its efforts as Arthur stared at him in horror.

“Did that just…” Arthur swallowed. 

Merlin felt his throat closing, and he gasped, trying to keep air moving into his lungs. “It wasn’t me.” It wasn’t me. Oh gods…

“I thought…” Arthur’s eyes were wide, his breath coming fast. “I thought if you killed a sorcerer that their spells would break.”

“I don’t know…” Merlin stammered. “The enchantment she placed on you broke. Sophia doesn’t have any sway over you now.”

“Then what did I just do?” Arthur raked his fingers through his hair. “How did I just do that? What in God’s name is wrong with me?”

“I don’t know.” He started to feel incredibly dizzy, and he had to fight to stay conscious. “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t even do anything! I just knocked the goblet off the table…it just stopped and I don’t know how…” Arthur picked up the goblet shakily. “Maybe it’s enchanted. Maybe—“

“It’s not enchanted. It’s a cup. Just try to—“

“What am I going to do? I’m supposed to be running drills this afternoon! How am I supposed to run drills if I’m making swords stop in midair?” 

“Don’t panic,” Merlin said, only half for Arthur’s own benefit. “Gaius will know what to do. He always knows what to do.”

“I just did magic, Merlin! Magic! If my father finds out, he’s going to have me killed!” Arthur cried, and one of the glass bottles on Gaius’ desk shattered, scattering blue shards across the floor.

Merlin sat up, holding a hand to his head. “Stop shouting! Someone’s going to hear you! And you’d better calm down before you break something else.” He waited until Arthur looked at him, and for a brief moment, he saw Arthur’s eyes had turned gold, which slowly dissipated to blue.

“Oh gods,” Merlin said, and the darkness pressing at the edge of his sight overwhelmed him. 

* 

Merlin collapsed, slumping off the side of the bed, and Arthur eased him back onto the mattress. He could hear Merlin’s hitched breathing and feel the wild heat of Merlin’s skin. It was like that damned poison all over again, but there was no foul play here; there had been no attack, and yet Merlin suffered.

Arthur swore, using words his father would have had him switched for when he was younger, and suddenly heard a sound behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the hearth, which had been only cold wood and ashes moments before, now blazed with a crackling fire. I’m setting things on fire. Without meaning to. Without thinking of it. God preserve me—

The door opened, and Gaius emerged with a pitcher of fresh water and clean linen draped over his arm. He frowned, looking at the scattered glass on the floor. “What happened here?”

Arthur took a breath. “He passed out a few moments ago. I—“

“Why on earth did you light a fire, your Highness? He’s burning up with fever.” Gaius moved with surprising speed to the hearth, dumping his pitcher over the flames with a sigh. “Making him warmer is the last thing we want to do.” He came to Merlin’s bedside, taking his wrist. “He’s getting worse. The medicine isn’t working.” 

“But surely…there has to be something else you can try.” Arthur pressed his fingertips against his temples. “I don’t understand why he’s so sick. He was in the same lake I was in.”

“I fear there is something else at work here,” Gaius said softly, brushing the damp hair from across Merlin’s forehead. “I believe something must have happened that Merlin won’t tell me. And with his fever as high as it is, even if he wakes, I doubt I’ll hear any sense from him.”

”Time is running short, little prince.” 

Arthur froze.

”Heed my words, or both of you will perish.” 

“Your Highness? Are you all right?” Gaius looked at him with concern, but Arthur shook his head. 

“I’m just worried.” Arthur exhaled. “I need some fresh air. I’ll return soon.”

Gaius nodded, and Arthur left the chamber, shutting the door behind him. He whispered under his breath, “If you can hear me, call me again, and tell me where to find you. We must speak.”

He stood in the empty corridor, waiting. When minutes passed with no reply, he spoke again. “I cannot bear to see Merlin suffer further. Please. Let me speak with you. Or if you will not, at least tell me how he may be saved.”

The voice made a thoughtful sound. “We were never meant to meet at this time, little prince. Yet perhaps this is as it should be. Follow my voice, and you will find me.”

“Thank you.” Arthur set off, the strange voice giving him direction as he sped through the castle. He ignored the questioning glances from Knights and servants alike, running downstairs and dodging any who came in his path. He breathed a prayer of thanks his father was in chambers with his advisors. 

The voice urged him on, and Arthur was surprised to find himself going deeper under Camelot, deeper than he had ever ventured before. Even when he was a young child and had explored as much of Camelot as he dared, his father never let him below the dungeons. Arthur had no love of darkness, and he found an unlit torch at the top of a long set of stairs heading down. 

He picked it up, wishing he had some means of lighting it, and the torch blazed to life by magic. It happened so quickly that he nearly dropped it. Arthur took a breath to steady himself and descended the steps.

The air grew damp, and the darkness grew thick around him, almost tangible. Arthur held his torch aloft, but he could barely see one step in front of the other. The stairs ended, and he stepped out on a snubbed balcony, looking out into a vast dark expanse. Two eyes stared at him through the gloom, and Arthur stepped closer, lifting his torch. 

“I come to beg your aid,” Arthur said, suddenly aware that he’d left his sword in his chambers, and had only a little dagger on his belt. If something terrible happened to him here, no one would ever know.

The voice snorted. “As if your weapons would be of any use against me.”

“I have no desire to harm you! I only wish to know how to save Merlin, and you seem to know.”

The darkness lifted slightly, and Arthur saw the voice came from an enormous form curled around a rock in the center of the expanse. “You’re…”

“A dragon, little prince.”

“Why on earth do you live beneath Camelot?”

Smoke rose from the dragon’s nostrils. “Perhaps you should ask Uther. He imprisoned me here.”

The creature was beautiful and terrible all at once, and Arthur had to force himself to look at it. “Why do you call me now? How is it that you know about Merlin?”

A great laugh shook the earth beneath Arthur’s feet, and he stepped back a pace from the edge. “Princes only see what they want to see. You are amusing, little Pendragon.”

“You said I have something that doesn’t belong to me. I can only assume you mean Sophia’s magic, but I can’t very well give it back now that she’s dead.”

“Sophia was Sidhe. If she had given you her magic, you would have been dead in moments.” The dragon watched him, and Arthur swore the thing was smiling at him. “This is great fun, little prince. My entertainment down here is sorely lacking.”

“This isn’t a game!” Arthur shouted. “Merlin is dying! He’s dying and you’re speaking in riddles!”

“Watch yourself, son of Uther. There are secrets that are not mine to divulge. I am speaking to you because you are the only person with the power to save him.”

“I’m supposed to save him with magic?” Arthur sputtered. “I don’t even know how to use it! You said yourself that it’s not mine. Who else would it belong to? Why should I be able to…”

Arthur pressed a hand over his mouth. Oh God, it’s not possible. It can’t be true. Merlin? How could I have not seen? All this time and he never…

“You do not have time to debate this. If you wish to save him, you must make me a promise.”

Arthur’s mouth was so dry he could barely speak. “What is it you ask of me?”

“When you are King, you will free me. You will never again hold my kind against their will.”

Arthur nodded slowly, and he pulled out the dagger from his belt. “I swear it. As long as I sit on the throne of Camelot, your kind will be safe from my kind.” He cut a shallow wound across his forearm, watching the blood well along the cut. “You have my word, sealed in blood.”

“I will hold you to it.” The dragon’s voice rang out in the chamber, shaking several stones loose from the ceiling. “Now. It is time to honor your request.”

*

Merlin struggled to breathe, looking up at Gaius. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Save your strength, my son. Don’t speak.” Gaius reached out for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You have to promise me you’ll look after Arthur. He’ll need you. He won’t understand…” A fit of coughing wracked his frame, and he couldn’t continue.

“Please, Merlin. Just rest.”

The door opened, and Gaius rose to his feet. “Your Highness. I’m sorry to say it, but Merlin needs quiet. I can have someone fetch you when…“

“Gaius. I need a few moments alone with Merlin.”

“Your Highness, I—“

“Please, Gaius. As a favor to your prince.”

“Of course, your Highness.” Gaius touched Merlin’s arm. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Merlin blinked, looking up as Arthur approached. “All that matters is that you’re alive.”

“You gave me something that doesn’t belong to me,” Arthur said, “And it is time you get it back.” Arthur placed both palms on Merlin’s chest, and he said softly, “Adfera 'ch allu atat ag ddiolchgarwch.”

Arthur’s eyes flashed gold, and Merlin felt a surge of utter power. He was quite sure he felt his lungs stop altogether, followed by his heart, only to have them start again. He closed his eyes as sharp, tingling pain swept through him, as if his entire body had been asleep. 

“Merlin?”

He took a breath, almost giddy with how easily the air came into his lungs. Opening his eyes again, he saw Arthur’s face, far paler than it had been moments before. “Are you all right?”

Arthur was panting for breath, his voice shaking. “I’m all right.”

“How did you know what to do?”

Arthur steadied himself with both hands, sitting back in the chair at Merlin’s bedside. “The dragon told me.”

“The dragon!” Merlin cried, and then forced his voice down to a hiss. “How do you know about the Great Dragon?”

Rubbing his temples, Arthur sighed. “The great bloody thing wouldn’t shut up. Damn voice in my head.”

Ripples of fear began working their way up Merlin’s spine. “So he obviously told you that, or, well, at this point it must have come to your attention that, even though I can’t imagine that you’ll be very pleased to know, but eventually I suppose you were going to find out, at least this way you know I was trying to save—“ 

“Merlin!”

Merlin stopped speaking. “Your Highness?”

“Don’t even start with that.” Arthur shook his head. “The dragon didn’t tell me. He dropped a lot of riddles—“

“He does that,” Merlin added.

“Let me speak!” Arthur gave him his look of Royal Decree, and Meriln minded it. “How is it possible that you have been hiding this from everyone?”

Merlin pulled up a blanket, feeling far less warm now that his fever was gone. “Not everyone.”

Arthur groaned. “Please don’t tell me Morgana.”

“No! Not Morgana. Just Gaius. And, clearly, the dragon.”

“You do magic in Camelot’s court.”

“I’ve saved your life with it. I’ve saved the lives of others. Including your father.”

“If he knew—“

“Why do you think I couldn’t tell you? Your loyalty is to Uther. It has to be. He’s your father. He’s our King.” Merlin shrugged. “And now that you know, well, I suppose you’ll do what you have to.”

Arthur gave him a hard glare. “I don’t always side with my father. My Camelot will be different from his Camelot.” Arthur held up his arm, and Merlin saw a thin line of blood across the flesh. 

“Oh gods, you didn’t make a trade or anything, did you? Magic can be rather tricky and people are always out to get you to make blood oaths if you’re not careful.”

“It’s a promise I made, you fool. I promised the Dragon to free him upon my taking the throne.”

Merlin sat back against the pillows, his mouth agape. “So this means you’re not going to turn me in?”

“I’m just as guilty as you now.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Arthur said, “You should know that I wasn’t only saving your life. The dragon said if your power stayed in me, it would have killed me before long.”

Merlin had considered this, and he had suspected this might be the case. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I highly doubt that if our positions were reversed that I would survive very long as a prince.”

“You would make a terrible one,” Arthur said. 

“Of course, you’d be a worse servant than I am,” Merlin replied. 

“I won’t dispute that.” Arthur looked down at his hands for a moment, and then looked up at Merlin. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Am I right in thinking you are very powerful as sorcerers go?”

Merlin paused before answering. “Yes.”

“And you gave me all those powers? Without even thinking twice?”

“I did.”

“And you’d do it again?”

“I would.”

Arthur sighed. “You don’t make any sense to me. With powers like yours, you don’t have to bow to me, or any man. You could make all of Camelot bow to you. You certainly don’t have to put yourself in harm’s way for any of us, least of all the son of the King who would see you burned.”

“I have my reasons for why I live as I do,” Merlin said softly.

“Are you planning on explaining any of them anytime soon?” 

Merlin smiled. “Don’t you think you’ve learned enough of my secrets for one day?”

“Perhaps.” Arthur rose to his feet and placed a kiss on Merlin’s forehead, just as he sometimes did for squires who were about to be Knighted, though he lingered longer that Merlin expected. “Whatever your secrets are, they are safe with me.”

Merlin looked down as Arthur drew back, smoothing his blankets. “Have you come up with any sort of explanation for Gaius regarding my sudden return to health?”

Arthur sat down, still a bit shaky from his spell casting. “I think I’ll let you explain.”

“What am I supposed to tell him?” 

“Perhaps the truth, at least this once.” Arthur gave Merlin a smile. “You might want to leave out the Dragon, though. He’s getting on in years and the shock might do him ill.”

In the end, once Gaius had mopped his streaming eyes and recovered himself, Merlin did tell the story, though he did leave out the part about the Dragon, and he did leave out the part about the kiss, which was just as well, since in the months to come, Merlin would have to become an expert in leaving things out, because some things are better left unsaid.

Especially when it comes to dragons and princes.


End file.
